


the dreamweaver

by hakyeonni



Category: VIXX
Genre: Dreamwalking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakyeonni/pseuds/hakyeonni
Summary: taekwoon's dreams are haunted by a beautiful, but mysterious, man in a mask.





	

_The hallway is wide and long and absurdly ornate. It’s dripping with chandeliers and marble, every surface gilded, everything about it screaming opulence. Taekwoon does not belong here, he knows that much, but he can’t see the exit. All he knows is the hallway that stretches out so far in front of him, so far that he can’t see the end, and he nearly falls to his knees. How will he ever escape? Is there any point even trying?_

_He looks down at his hands, as if to make sure he’s still himself – he is – and when he looks back up there’s a man standing there in front of him. He’s wearing dress pants and a large, flowing shirt that’s ridiculously billowy and just serves to show off his collarbones and a large chunk of shoulder. That’s not what intrigues Taekwoon, though. The mask that’s wrapped around his face is as black as pitch, adorned with red accents, and it just serves to define his eyes even more – eyes that are currently boring a hole in Taekwoon with a ferocity that makes him inadvertently take a step back._

_“Who are you?” he breathes._

_The man turns and starts running away, and Taekwoon follows blindly, stumbling and nearly falling on the shiny wooden floor before regaining his balance. The man runs gracefully and lithely, and when he looks over his shoulder at Taekwoon he has a huge smile on his face._

Taekwoon sits bolt upright in bed gasping, and it takes him a few moments to actually come back to himself and realise that he’s in his apartment alone, just like he had been when he went to sleep. He has to physically uncurl his hands from the sheets to haul himself out of bed and pad into the living room, because there’s a weird itch under his skin and he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep after that. Sitting himself down at his piano, he rests his hands on the keys like they can give him the answers.

 _It’s just a dream,_ he tells himself. Just a dream. It wasn’t even a nightmare. But when Taekwoon closes his eyes all he can see is that hallway and that man, and it makes him feel itchy again. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream. Nothing more. Dreams can’t hurt you. Dreams can’t haunt you._ That’s what he tells himself as he sits there at his piano, staring off into space and running his hands over the keys aimlessly. He doesn’t go back to sleep until dawn is breaking and he finally feels settled… But even so he still can’t shake the niggling feeling in his stomach.

//

Taekwoon knew better than to listen to Wonshik when he insisted on popping by his studio for “just a few minutes”. They’ve been friends for years, now, and yet Wonshik persuades him every single time. And every single time Taekwoon ends up stretched out on the couch with his headphones in, browsing articles on his phone while Wonshik loses himself in his music. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy that stuff, too, but he doesn’t attack it with the same voracity that Wonshik does. So here he is, draped on the couch, glaring holes in the back of Wonshik’s head, wondering if for once he’ll be able to even go into the same _district_ as Wonshik’s studio without them ending up there. 

“The movie starts in half an hour,” Taekwoon reminds him, and Wonshik raises one shoulder in a shrug. That’s the most acknowledgment he’s likely to get until Wonshik hauls himself out of whatever trance he goes into when he’s working, so he rolls his eyes and shifts so he’s on his side, facing away from him, his face smushed into the leather of the sofa.

The weird mask dream was weeks ago, and it hasn’t come back, so Taekwoon has no qualms about letting his eyelids flutter shut to drift away into a nap. It was just a stupid dream, anyway. Aren’t stress dreams a thing? That’s probably what it was, considering he’s being run off his feet with preparations for his next album. Some weird stress dream, and _God_ Taekwoon doth protest too much but how can he not when he couldn’t get the man’s eyes out of his head for a week?

He drifts off to the soft sounds of a piano coming through Wonshik’s speakers.

_Just like last time the hallway is long and ornate and completely overwhelming, and the vague feelings of panic wind their way through Taekwoon’s body, up to wrap their fingers around his throat. Wherever he is is beautiful, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s also haunting in a way that Taekwoon hasn’t felt before. Thousands of dead souls stalked these halls, and probably still do, if his gut feeling is any indication._

_He blinks, and the man appears again, and just like last time they run, Taekwoon’s spirits lifting as he chases this beautiful stranger down the hall. His steps are light, quick, sure, and he feels the rightness of what he’s doing – chasing this man is_ right _, and he wants to know. The curiosity burns bright in him, and he swears the man must see it as he looks back over his shoulder and smiles widely at Taekwoon, such a pretty smile. Taekwoon can’t stop himself from grinning in reply as the man ducks around a pole, playful, his laughter breaking the silence between them. It’s a loud belly laugh, that one, and it makes Taekwoon nearly stop in his tracks, surprised. He’s just about to reach out to touch, to grab the ribbon that ties the man’s mask on and_ pull _when the man twirls away and –_

“Hyung!” Wonshik urges, shaking Taekwoon out of sleep, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. “Hyung, are you alright?”

Taekwoon scoots backwards, out of Wonshik’s grip, and nearly topples off the edge of the sofa. His skin is itchy all over again, but it’s exacerbated by Wonshik’s hands on him. He’s drowsy and confused, but all he remembers is that _man_ , laughing like Taekwoon was the funniest thing ever. “Wonshik?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and feeling a shiver go down his spine. “What’s the time?”

Wonshik looks decidedly sheepish. “It’s, uh, 10:30. I kind of got carried away. And you were sleeping, so you couldn’t remind me…”

The movie they’d wanted to see – and it was like herding cats to try and pin Wonshik down into a definite time and place, which makes this all the more irritating – had been scheduled for 6:30. Taekwoon had been asleep for four and a half hours, and yet it had felt like nothing at all when he was immersed in that dream, chasing the man down the hallway. “Wonshik,” he admonishes, but there’s no weight to it and he sits up and stretches, swatting lazily at the younger man.

“I know, I know. But I can just pirate the movie and we can watch it here instead, you know,” Wonshik suggests, wiggling his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Taekwoon hesitates. He probably should get home and finish writing the lyrics he’d wanted to get done tonight (and he’d anticipated being home already, but plans always seem to change with Wonshik) but the dream is still haunting his mind, and he can see the man’s face on the back of his eyelids when he blinks, so he shrugs. “Fine. But don’t expect me to bail you out of jail,” he says, sitting back on the sofa and running a hand through his hair.

Wonshik sets the movie to download, and then they decide to run down to the convenience store to get popcorn. Taekwoon reminds Wonshik that he’d bought him that microwave as a housewarming present in the hopes of him eating something _better_ than McDonalds, which was right around the corner from his studio, and that it’s mainly sat unused since then. Wonshik rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Taekwoon’s shoulders and says that he’s such a _mother_  sometimes, which makes the both of them giggle. It’s easy and normal and Taekwoon wouldn’t have it any other way, even if Wonshik’s habits drive him up the wall sometimes.

They snuggle up on the couch with Wonshik’s favourite ratty blanket, and Taekwoon lets him sling his legs over his lap. This is nice, this is normal, and even if he can’t forget about the man he can at least pretend to, for a while. That’s enough.

//

_This time when he opens his eyes he’s lying on the floor on his back, staring up at the man, who’s peering at him worriedly. There’s a chandelier above his head and for a moment Taekwoon is dazzled by the sparkling jewels refracting in his eyes._

_“Who are you?” Taekwoon breathes, not caring that he’s most likely not going to get an answer even though his curiosity is burning at him from the inside out. He actually feels like he’s going insane, stuck in this man’s grasp, and he doesn’t know the first thing about him except that he has fucking gorgeous eyes and a laugh that Taekwoon wants to hear for the rest of his life._

_“Who am I, or what am I? What do you really want to know?” the man replies._

_Taekwoon would have fallen over if he wasn’t on his back, but as it is he just gapes up at the man. “Uh, both?” he stammers._

_The man takes a step so he’s standing on top of Taekwoon, one foot either side of his waist, and raises an eyebrow. This would normally be an unflattering angle but the man_ still _looks gorgeous and Taekwoon has to wonder how he does it. He reaches out a hand to Taekwoon, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Taekwoon reaches for it. “I’m –”_

_The moment their hands touch Taekwoon gasps and is ripped out of the dream violently._

He wakes with his head slumped on the piano and shudders upright. There it is again, that same itchy feeling, and he gets up and throws open the door to his balcony, relishing the cool air on his face. He hadn’t expected the dream to come back this soon – the last time it had been two weeks, but this time it’s only been a week since he fell asleep in Wonshik’s studio. He’d thought he’d be safe for another week at least, which is why he was more lax about going to bed. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the piano, either, and all he can remember is one moment he was banging away at the keys, trying to sort out a melody that had been floating around in his head for the past few days, and the next he was… 

Leaning heavily on his balcony, he stares out at the glittering lights of the city and is unable to resist the parallel to the glittering chandelier. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s seen that hallway before somewhere, which just makes everything all the more alarming. Recurring dreams are common, he knows that, but he also knows in his gut that this is more than just a dream. It feels realer than any other dream he’s ever felt, and there’s also the issue of the man, that intoxicating, infuriating man that Taekwoon can’t seem to get out of his head. His voice had been so warm and inviting, and the feeling that had run through Taekwoon when their hands touched… No. It’s no ordinary dream, that’s for sure. 

He heads back inside and flops face-down onto his bed, groaning into his pillow. This is the _last_ thing he needs right now – his album comes out in less than a week and he’ll have to go on music shows and perform, and he can’t do that looking like shit because he’s sleep deprived. And yet he waits until the safety of dawn before knocking out, feeling like he’s back in his trainee days again, surviving off three hours of sleep per night for weeks on end. The man is gorgeous, sure, but he’s a fucking annoyance too. 

// 

Five days pass without incident before Taekwoon has another dream.

It couldn’t come at a worse time, too. He’s in the van, being driven to MBC for Music Core, when he decides he could stretch out on the back seat and have a cat-nap. Traffic is terrible, anyway, which isn’t a surprise, so it’s not likely that he’ll be woken up easily. It’s all too easy to lie down and pull his jacket over his head and drift away to the gentle swaying of the van. The dream is in the back of his head, of course, but he’d been up all last night with Wonshik who had insisted on using Taekwoon as guide vocals for something he’d been working on. Wonshik, of course, was a nightmare to work with, and had made Taekwoon sing the same three lines over and over and over again until it was _just right_ until Taekwoon had stormed out in a huff. So he thinks nothing of having a quick nap, knowing it’ll be best that he arrives rested so he can sing well.

_They’re exactly where they were last time, with the man firmly grasping Taekwoon’s hand, his mouth hanging open like he’s just finished a syllable. “What’s your name?”_

_Taekwoon shakes his head and is about to protest when the man yanks him to his feet with absurd strength. Taekwoon nearly goes wheeling face-first but the man catches him, his arm so solid around Taekwoon’s waist, and he nearly keels over again. Why can’t he get this man’s eyes out of his brain? He won’t have a chance, now, because they’re so close that Taekwoon can smell the clean, crisp scent of the man, see how his nostrils flare when he breathes. It’s startling and alarming all at once because Taekwoon knows this is a dream, he_ knows _it is, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one. “I’m Taekwoon,” he murmurs, taking a step back and extricating himself out of the man’s grasp not because he doesn’t like it but because he likes it too much. “I never got your name.”_

_“I just said it. Learn to listen,” the man scolds, but he’s not being mean. “I’m Hakyeon.”_

_Taekwoon has so many things he wants to ask, starting with ‘why do you keep appearing in my dreams? ‘and ending with ‘why can’t I stop thinking about you?’. Mixed in there somewhere is ‘please take off that damn mask’, but he feels that’s a bit too forward to ask this dream creature. He nearly laughs, at that. Maybe after all these years of being perpetually single his subconscious has taken the reins and has decided to dream up the perfect man. Why he’s mysterious, and why they’re chasing each other through a fucking palace, is anyone’s guess. A shrink could probably have a field day with him. “Where are we?” is the question he finally settles on, and he could_ kick _himself. Out of all the things to ask! Who cares where they are?_

_Hakyeon shrugs. “Don’t know. It’s your dream. I’m just a passenger.”_

_“A passenger? What do you mean?” Taekwoon asks._

_Opening his mouth, Hakyeon looks like he’s about to reply, but then Taekwoon feels a hand grasp him and tug him backwards, out of the dream world, no matter how much he struggles._

“Taekwoon! Wake up, for God’s sake,” his manager is saying, shaking his ankle furiously. “We’re here. You slept the whole way.”

Sitting up, Taekwoon forgets where he is for a moment and just blinks at the stranger at his feet. This isn’t the hallway. That’s not the – that’s not Hakyeon. But then his manager cocks his head and something clicks in Taekwoon’s head and he digs his nails into his palm. “Sorry, hyung,” he mutters, clambering out of the van. There’s a few fansites scattered around who raise their cameras the moment they spot him, and inwardly he groans. His hair probably looks like a bird's’ nest, and he’ll bet one half of his face is all red from where he was lying on the leather of the seats. Still, nothing that can be done, so he just ducks his head and speed walks into the building. 

This awakening leaves him confused, moreso than usual. There was a moment where he was certain the dream world was the real one, and the real world nothing but a fable. That in itself would terrify him, _should_ terrify him, but all it does is make him feel very distantly and vaguely worried. _Hakyeon_ … Who is he? What is he doing in Taekwoon’s dreams? Why does he still feel the ghost of a touch around his waist, like his imprint has been seared into his skin?

Why does he want _more?_

//

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon begins. “Have you ever had a recurring dream?”

He is fully aware that he is drunk, and also fully aware that Wonshik might think he’s finally cracked and lost it if he goes into explicit details about his dreams. And yet he wants to know if this is really unique to him or if anyone else he knows has had weird homoerotic mysterious dreams that felt more real than reality. And it’s not even the homoerotic bit that’s bothering him, really; he came to terms with that part of himself long ago.

Wonshik looks at him strangely, perhaps because he’d been in one of his monologues about… well, literally anything. “Yeah. I had one when I was little that I rode the family cat into battle, like 3 times. It was awesome. Why?”

Taekwoon screws up his face. “Okay. I was just wondering.”

But they’ve been friends for so long now that that bullshit explanation isn’t going to get past Wonshik, even if he _is_ drunk, so he leans in and raises an eyebrow. Taekwoon has the faintest thought that he’s glad he brought this up when they’re drinking at Wonshik’s apartment instead of at a bar, because he knows Wonshik won’t let this go, now, and at least he has an easy excuse to get away from it – bed.

“No,” Wonshik’s saying, shaking his head. “No, there’s more to it than that, hyung. What’s up?”

 _I think I have a crush on a guy I’ve been seeing in my dreams_ won’t go over well, Taekwoon knows. So he just shrugs nonchalantly and takes another pull of his beer, wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up at all. “I’ve just been having these weird dreams lately. I’m chasing someone through a long hallway.”

“Oh, that’s nothing. It’s just stress,” Wonshik waves a hand dismissively. “Isn’t your label pushing you really hard for this comeback?”

Taekwoon wants to deny it but he can’t. His label is so small that they rely on his sales for a lot of their income; when he passes the trainees in the halls they bow so deep at him he always feels slightly guilty, although he’s not sure why. He wishes they’d hurry up and debut already so some of the pressure would be off him, but girl groups are a dime a dozen these days and he knows the CEO is trying to come up with a concept that will make them stand out. Wonshik, on the other hand, is living it up as the founder of his own label. The only deadlines he has to obey are his own, and Taekwoon would feel slightly envious if not for the fact that Wonshik makes hip-hop tracks and he sings ballads. A whole different ballgame. “Yeah, but what’s new? They always do that. I’ve got a full month and a half of promotion cycles." 

Wonshik winces. “Christ. Look, at least you just have to sit in a chair and play the piano and sing. You don’t have to do choreo or anything.” 

“Thank god for that,” Taekwoon mutters, wondering when the hell he got so bitter and disillusioned with his life.

He excuses himself not long after that, traipsing into Wonshik’s spare bedroom and collapsing onto the bed. It’s been exactly three days since he fell asleep in the van, and if the time between dreams is really counting down then he’ll have another dream tonight. It’s not even something he has to question, really; he knows it. His blasé attitude about the dreams earlier with Wonshik was entirely false, and as he drunkenly pulls the blanket over his head and closes his eyes he wonders if the man – Hakyeon, he remembers – will tell him what’s going on this time.

_“Woah,” Hakyeon murmurs as he slips his arms around Taekwoon’s waist. Their faces are so close together it’s rather unnerving. “You went to sleep drunk, didn’t you?”_

_“Maybe,” Taekwoon says, narrowing his eyes slightly as Hakyeon reaches out to brush his hair away from his forehead. “Why are you touching me?”_

_Hakyeon raises an eyebrow. “This is nothing but your desires being filtered through me. It’s all I get with drunk minds.”_

_That takes a moment to process, but when it does – so this is Taekwoon doing this? – he steps out Hakyeon’s grasp and shakes his head violently. The hallway looks the same as it always does… Except, when he looks closer, the colours are slightly off, like someone’s messed with the levels in photoshop. Hakyeon’s as clear as anything, and more gorgeous than usual, if such a thing was possible. “Sorry,” he mumbles, realising he’s blushing._

_“It’s fine,” Hakyeon replies, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “It means we get more time. Drunkenness buys me a few more minutes.”_

_The problem with that, of course, is that Taekwoon is still drunk even in here. Which means that when he folds his arms over his chest and pouts that simple movement puts him off-balance, and he stumbles forward, into Hakyeon. “Whoops,” he slurs, but not moving from where he’s ended up, half-hugging Hakyeon in an embrace. “What are you?”_

_“A dreamweaver,” Hakyeon replies instantly, his hands coming up to rest on Taekwoon’s back._

_There’s a moment of silence where Taekwoon kind of expects Hakyeon to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Okay. What the hell is a dreamweaver?”_

_“We have time, but not_ that _much time,” huffs Hakyeon. “Basically I’m a human who can travel through dreams. It’s a hobby of mine. I didn’t mean to get_ stuck _here.”_

_Taekwoon pulls back to look at him and squints. “Stuck?”_

_“Yeah, stuck. Inside your head,” Hakyeon says, tapping Taekwoon’s forehead with his index finger. “Which isn’t great.”_

_Okay. So Hakyeon’s a… dreamweaver. Taekwoon thought that was a kind of software, not an actual… thing. Someone who can walk through dreams? Maybe he drunk more than he thought and maybe he’s dreaming about the dream. That would make sense. Because Taekwoon’s never believed in the supernatural, and someone who can go travelling through dreams most definitely falls under that category. But somehow he knows this is real, and it’s not just because Hakyeon is in his arms, so warm and solid and so very_ there _. And he’s stuck? In Taekwoon’s head? Why?_

_“Why?” he asks._

Taekwoon wakes up to itchy skin and the burn of hands imprinted on his back.

//

It takes a bottle and a half of soju for Taekwoon to declare, to his empty apartment, that he is sufficiently drunk. He’s actually drunker than he was at Wonshik’s place – drunker than he should be, really, considering he has stuff to do tomorrow and can’t get away with lying in bed napping off a hangover – because his logic is, if being drunk buys them time, then being _really_ drunk will buy them even more time. It’s been two days since he last saw Hakyeon, and he knows he’ll dream tonight, he just _knows_ it. It goes beyond fitting in with the way the dreams are getting closer together; part of Taekwoon’s soul is calling to Hakyeon, he knows. Or maybe that’s just the soju talking. 

_“Stuck?” is the first thing Taekwoon says when he opens his eyes._

_Hakyeon has his back to him and he jumps when Taekwoon speaks, startled. “God! Don’t scare me like that. Wait, are you drunk again?”_

_This time the hallway is twisted, so just past them it does a loop and the floor becomes the ceiling. Huh. Taekwoon wonders what this place would look like if he got blackout drunk; would it fade away entirely? What about drugs? Would that change it too? “Yes,” he slurs, and sits down on the floor, pouting up at Hakyeon. “Why are you stuck?”_

_Hakyeon folds himself to the floor, more graceful than Taekwoon could ever hope to be. Without hesitating he whirls around and leans backwards, so his back is resting against Taekwoon’s chest, Taekwoon’s legs bracketing his own. Taekwoon’s heart starts racing at the closeness of this, even though if he knows that this is his_ own _mind. “Because your mind is incredibly deep and complex. And you’re stressed. That never helps. I was just meant to slip in and out once, but I haven’t been able to leave your dreams since that first night. I think I got lost.”_

_Hakyeon’s voice is small, and when he rests his head on Taekwoon’s shoulder it’s the most natural thing for Taekwoon to bury his face there, inhaling the sweet smell of Hakyeon’s shampoo. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Is there any way you can get free?”_

_“Yes,” Hakyeon says, and Taekwoon feels a shiver run through him. “If you find my body, in your world, and wake me up. It’ll be in a coma right now.”_

_This is all beyond Taekwoon, especially because when he closes his eyes he feels like he’s underwater, but he tries to keep up. “Okay. Your body is in my world somewhere, in a coma? What happens if you don’t go back to it?”_

_“I die,” replies Hakyeon bluntly. “Simple as that.”_

_There’s a long, long pause where Hakyeon’s words sink in, and Taekwoon feels his mouth go dry. If Hakyeon is telling the truth – and Taekwoon has no reason to not believe him, considering he’s so heavy in Taekwoon’s arms that he must be real, he_ has _to be – then that’s a horrific fate. To be stuck inside Taekwoon’s mind while his body slowly wastes away… Well, Taekwoon has spent twenty-five years in his own head and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone._

_“I can do that,” Taekwoon says confidently, even though he has no clue where Hakyeon is and where to start looking. He’s Korean as well, which narrows it down some, but not much. Not to mention that, if Hakyeon’s body is stationed somewhere on the other side of the world, Taekwoon can’t just jet off to find it in the middle of a promotion cycle. But Hakyeon breathes out slowly in relief at his words, and that cements his decision. He won’t just let Hakyeon die. He can’t. “Where do you live?”_

_“Seoul –” is all Hakyeon says before Taekwoon is ripped out of the dream._

//

Taekwoon doesn’t really regret that he got drunk, even though he spends all of the next day with a pounding head, and he’s pretty sure that his manager can tell – not _least_ because when he’d come to fetch him Taekwoon still stunk of soju. But it was worth it, because he’d found out more information than he really knew what to do with. So not only is Hakyeon a human who could walk through dreams (and he’s _still_ trying to wrap his head around that, and failing spectacularly most of the time), but he’s somehow got stuck in Taekwoon’s head and if he doesn’t get _un_ stuck he’ll die. It sounds like a plot straight out of a drama, to him, but that doesn’t make it any less real. If he closes his eyes he can still feel Hakyeon, heavy and weighty in his arms, which just gives him butterflies in his stomach.

Maybe he really is losing it. Maybe this is the start of a downward slide. How else would he explain the fact that he thinks he has a crush on someone who only appears in his dreams?

But Hakyeon doesn’t appear in Taekwoon’s dreams that night, even though he’d expected him to. Nor the night after that, or the one after that, or the one after _that…_ It’s another seven days before Taekwoon feels himself slipping backwards into the familiar hallway that he’s been craving so much.

_The hallway this time is dark, like someone’s dimmed the lights. When Taekwoon squints into the blackness he can see that, around the edges, everything is beginning to fuzz into static. He doesn’t know what that means, but if he has to guess it’s probably not good._

_“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon sighs, his arms sliding around Taekwoon’s waist from behind._

_Taekwoon nearly falls over. He was worried that he’d get here and Hakyeon would be dead on the floor or something equally as horrible. He was also worried that the dream hallway was cut off from him forever. None of those seem to be true, but as he turns around and cups Hakyeon’s face he has to bite his lip hard to stop himself from making noise. Hakyeon is pale, and his eyes flutter shut as he leans into Taekwoon’s touch. There’s a fragility about him that was never there before, and Taekwoon knows he’s slipping away. “Hakyeon? You need to tell me where you live,” he urges gently, ignoring the way the hallway is beginning to flicker around them, almost like it’s going to disappear entirely._

_Hakyeon makes an attempt to open his eyes, and sways on his feet. “I… I can’t remember…”_

_Amazing what a difference a week in Taekwoon’s mind can do. The last time Taekwoon saw Hakyeon he was worried but most definitely there, but now Taekwoon is concerned he’s going to vanish right in front of his very eyes. “I need you to try and remember for me. Then I can help you,” he says, brushing Hakyeon’s hair away from his face. “Do you remember what district? What side of the river was it on?”_

_“South…” Hakyeon mumbles, and Taekwoon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s a start, at least._

_“Okay, south of the river, good. Is there anything else you remember? Landmarks? Which bridge do you use to cross the river?”_

_Hakyeon opens his eyes and looks at Taekwoon, but he’s looking straight through him, like he’s barely there. “Dongho bridge,” he whispers._

_“Good, Dongho bridge,” Taekwoon replies, his mind racing. That’s the bridge that leads into Gangnam – more specifically, Apgujeong. It’s narrowed down his search somewhat, but it’s still an entire district that he has to search for one person. He doesn’t even know Hakyeon’s last name. “Come on, Hakyeon, tell me more. I know you can. You have to remember."_

_The note of desperation turns hysterical on the last syllable as Hakyeon’s legs give way from underneath him and he collapses to the floor. Taekwoon manages to catch him, and pulls him into his lap, his hands fluttering over Hakyeon’s face anxiously. “Oh, god, Hakyeon,” he mutters, and without hesitating reaches around to tug at the ribbon holding Hakyeon’s mask on, lifting it off and away. “Please be alright.”_

_Okay, woah. Hakyeon had been gorgeous when there was an element of mystery about his features, but now that Taekwoon can see his face properly, he momentarily forgets how to breathe. Hakyeon is beautiful, even like this, even when he’s pale and breathing shallowly and looking like he’s about to vanish. Taekwoon is utterly captivated, and realises with a start that he’d do anything to save him._

_“Horizon…” Hakyeon breathes, and Taekwoon strokes his face, desperately trying to ignore the way the hallway has faded all around them. They’re sitting in a patch of exquisiteness surrounded by absolute nothingness. “My apartment building… Horizon.”_

_Taekwoon breathes a sigh of relief. Now this he can use. “Okay. Horizon. Okay. I can do that. I’ll go there right now,” he blurts, even though he doesn’t even know what apartment Hakyeon’s in. There are ways around that, though. “You’ll be okay.”_

_It’s the hardest thing in the world to lean down and kiss Hakyeon on the forehead gently and then get up and walk away from him, urging himself to wake up, but he does it with some reserve of strength he doesn’t even know he has. The last thing he sees before he’s pulled back into the land of the living is the darkness closing around Hakyeon’s body, pulsating, enveloping him entirely._

The moment Taekwoon’s eyes open he swings his legs out of bed and strides to his wardrobe, his heart hammering in his chest as he yanks a shirt over his head and pulls out some jeans. He doesn’t know if Hakyeon’s gone, or is – it’s almost too horrible to think about, and as soon as he’s dressed he reaches for his phone and googles _Horizon apartments gangnam_. Up pops the address almost instantly and he breathes a silent sigh of relief. If Hakyeon’s memory had been wrong, or if Taekwoon had misunderstood him…

He waits until he’s on his way in his car before dialling Wonshik on speakerphone, balancing the phone precariously on his thigh. He’ll be up even though it’s 2 am – he always is.

“Hyung?” Wonshik mumbles the moment he picks up. “What’s up?”

“Theoretically, if I wanted to find out what apartment number someone lived in if I didn’t know, how would I go about finding that out?”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Are you turning to a life of crime? Do you hate your job that much?”

“Not the time for jokes, Wonshik,” Taekwoon replies tersely, changing lanes and overtaking another car. “I’m serious. How would I?”

Wonshik starts typing on his keyboard. “Uh, ask someone who’s going into the apartment building? Make up a sob story or something. Break into the mailboxes and go through them. If it’s an old apartment building it will have the names of the occupants next to the buzzers.”

“It’s in Gangnam. Fat chance of that,” Taekwoon scoffs, but his mind is racing at a million miles an hour. “Okay, got it. Thanks.”

“Gangnam? Are you a high-profile criminal –” Wonshik is saying as Taekwoon hangs up on him and puts his foot down grimly.

He finds a parking spot nearby and jogs towards the apartment building, which is looming into the sky seemingly threateningly. Somewhere in there is Hakyeon, slipping away, and the thought of being so close and not being able to do anything makes frustration bubble up in his chest. But no, he needs to be calm and rational, and so he stops an older couple heading in the front door and asks if they’ve heard of a Hakyeon who lives there, knowing it’s a long shot but also knowing he has to try anyway. 

“Hakyeon?” the woman squints at him suspiciously. “I might. Who are you?”

Taekwoon freezes, a grin plastered on his face. “I’m his, ah, brother. He hasn’t been answering my calls and I’m really worried about him.”

The couple look at him up and down, mirrored expressions of mild disbelief on their faces, and Taekwoon gulps. Brother was probably the wrong connection to make. He and Hakyeon do not look alike in the slightest. Not to mention he has to hope they haven’t turned on a TV in the past few weeks, because he’s been on every music program there is. “Brother? If you’re his brother, why don’t you know where he lives?”

“He and I had a fight a month ago,” Taekwoon replies, thinking on his feet and hoping to god this extraordinary lie pays off, because he’s about to shoulder past them and press every button in the lift if he doesn’t get inside soon. “I’ve just come back from overseas and he wouldn’t tell me where he lived, but tonight I got a text from him saying he was really sad… And now he won’t pick up his phone. I’m so worried.”

That last part isn’t a lie, and the couple look at him dubiously for a few moments before the woman shrugs. “You poor dear. Come on, then. He’s on the same floor as us.”

Taekwoon spends the entire lift ride up to the 18th floor blinking in complete and utter shock that his lie _worked_. He’s not even a particularly good actor. They must have read the desperation in his voice, which is bleeding through quite patently now; he has to stop himself from clenching his fists and reminds himself to breathe normally, even though the nervousness in his body is making it hard to stay still.

The woman points out Hakyeon’s apartment – number 9 – and watches as Taekwoon tries the handle, which opens smoothly. “I guess he’s expecting me,” he tells them cheerily. “Thanks for your help!”

It’s rude of him to slam the door in their faces, but he does, and he leans against it and breathes out shakily. Somewhere in here is Hakyeon, still trapped in Taekwoon’s mind. What must that be like? Is he even awake when Taekwoon is? Would he be trapped in some corner, watching but unable to do anything? He represses a shudder at how awful that would be and reaches out to flick on the lights, not really knowing what to expect.

He’d half-expected it to be done up like a demon’s lair, or have a cauldron bubbling, or _something_. But Hakyeon’s apartment is normal and clean to the point of it being too clean; it’s almost clinical. He makes a beeline for the hallway he spots off to the side, making a left and stepping into the first bedroom he sees, turning on the lights as he goes.

Hakyeon is lying there, his breathing shallow, his face serene in his sleep. He looks pale, just like he did in Taekwoon’s dream, but he’s _there_. The fact that this is the real world and not Taekwoon’s dreams is such a disconnect it’s all he can do is stand there and stare for a long, long moment, digging his nails into his palm to make sure that this is real. This is real, and Hakyeon’s here, and he’s _alive_. Taekwoon takes a slow step towards the bed, and then another, treading lightly. Hakyeon is just as gorgeous as he was in his dreams. Maybe even moreso, because when Taekwoon reaches out to poke his hand he’s warm and deliciously solid in a way he wasn’t in his dreams. 

“Hakyeon,” he mumbles, shaking Hakyeon on the shoulder gently. “Time to wake up.” 

Hakyeon doesn’t stir, so Taekwoon shakes him again, a bit more violently this time. In fact, he doesn’t stir even when Taekwoon pinches him on the waist, and he doesn’t stir when Taekwoon holds his breath and slaps him across the face, hating himself for doing it. Now Hakyeon has a red spot on his cheek, but he’s still dead to the world, and it’s not until Taekwoon fills up a cup of water and dumps it on his head that he wakes up. 

With a roar, Hakyeon leaps out of bed, grabbing Taekwoon and forcing him back against the wall, his arm across Taekwoon’s throat. “Who are you?” he growls. “What are you doing here?”

Taekwoon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know if he can, because the physical proximity is fucking with his head – Hakyeon is pressing into him, and it’s very distracting – and he doesn’t want to get punched. So he just waits, blinking at Hakyeon evenly, watching as Hakyeon slowly comes back to himself, the aggression fading from his eyes.

“Oh, my god!” he blurts, letting Taekwoon go and backing away from him, his hands over his mouth. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re Taekwoon.” 

“Nice greeting for your knight in shining armour,” Taekwoon deadpans. 

Hakyeon stumbles into him again, but this time there’s no aggression in his movements. Instead he wraps his arms around Taekwoon in a hug, burying his face in the crook of Taekwoon’s neck, nuzzling there. Taekwoon freezes, both unable to move because his arms are pinned to his sides and not sure that he wants to. This might just be a friendly hug, because what was it Hakyeon said? Even though he was the one doing the touching, it was Taekwoon’s desires being filtered through him. It certainly doesn’t _feel_ like just a friendly hug, because the way Hakyeon’s breath is ghosting on Taekwoon’s neck is sending shivers up his spine, but he doesn’t want to assume anything. He’s still in shock that this is _real_ , that Hakyeon is indeed a real person, not just someone he made up. 

“Hakyeon?” he mumbles. 

Without even hesitating, Hakyeon leans up and tugs Taekwoon into a kiss, his lips so soft against Taekwoon’s own. It’s more of a reflex than anything else that Taekwoon kisses Hakyeon back, extricating his arms to wrap them around Hakyeon’s waist and tug him closer so they’re flush, the heat of Hakyeon’s body making his head spin. He’d sworn that his dreams felt like reality, but now he’s got Hakyeon in his arms he realises the dreams pale in comparison to the real thing. Hakyeon bites his lower lip gently and he has to stifle a groan, his hands tightening in the fabric of Hakyeon’s shirt.

“Woah,” he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, his heart racing. “That’s more like the greeting I was expecting.”

Hakyeon raises an eyebrow and Taekwoon blushes. “Yeah? Nice to meet you too.”

“I have so many questions,” Taekwoon says, reaching up to brush Hakyeon’s hair out of his eyes. “Starting with how.”

Hakyeon smiles, and when he does Taekwoon swears his knees go weak. Woah. _Woah_. He’s in way deeper than he thought, because that smile is doing funny things to his insides. “Isn’t it good that we’ve got a while, then?” Hakyeon replies with a wink, and Taekwoon can’t stop himself from grinning back. 

He almost makes a comment about how it’s much better to get lost in one’s heart than one’s head, anyway, but decides against it in case he gets thrown up against the wall again. That’s slightly too much cheese even for him. Instead he just grins and pulls Hakyeon in for another kiss, his head spinning as it tries to catch up with everything that’s happened in the past hour. All he knows is this, all he needs is this, and even if Hakyeon and he met under very unusual circumstances… Well, they found each other in the end, and that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate titles: 'maeve can't write anything short ever', 'what even is being concise?' 
> 
> written for the wonderful [kyaappucino](https://twitter.com/kyaappucino) on twitter, whose prompt this originally was. She let me take it off her hands, and I'm very grateful! Many thanks also to everyone who voted on my poll on twitter to decide the pairing. Neo won, but wontaek was a close second. 
> 
> original prompt was: AU where Taekwoon chases after a figure through his dreams – and the only things he remembers: definitely male, hot, and wearing a mask.


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